


Examinations

by BoopitybopCoodilybap



Category: Gone Series - Michael Grant
Genre: Gen, Masturbation, One Shot, Reflecting on life, Writing practice, descriptive writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoopitybopCoodilybap/pseuds/BoopitybopCoodilybap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These were the guilty eyes of a murderer; the bloodshot eyes of an alcoholic; the distant eyes of a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Examinations

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to practice descriptive writing, and also to write some more fics about Charles, here. So, this is the result.  
> Enjoy!

Orc's fingers struggled with the tie on his own threadbare pants, partially from slight drunkness, and partially because his hands were just really big. He hated that about himself. He hated most everything about himself these days.

When he finally got the rope knot to undo, the stepped out of the shorts, careful not to fall over. The floor of the bathroom creaked beneath his heavy girth. Orc knew that it probably wouldn't be long until he wouldn't even be able to go upstairs anymore.

There was a mirror hanging above the sink. He stared into the mirror. A living mass of gravel stared back at him.

He turned to his side and examined his bulging beer-gut stomach. Orc considered how he was most likely the only kid in the FAYZ to have /gained/ weight since the whole damn thing started up.

The went to look at his face, and leaned in on the sink like he used to when he was a kid with a fresh haircut. The sink groaned in protest against his weight and jaunted to the side. Great. Now he'd broken the freaking sink.

He sighed then leaned towards the mirror again, this time, /not/ leaning on the sink. Orc noted how the bit of his skin left on the rock-monster's face was dry, marked with pimple scars, and regular scars. (He rarely lost a fight, except for when he was tipsy, and then it was just because he couldn't keep his balance... Or if the fight was against his father. Then it was just because he never fought back.) He ran a single thick finger along the slight, rocky contours of his cheek. He went to do the same to his one patch of human flesh, then hesitated. He decidedly gently poked his skin. It tickled.

He stared at his eyes then. His eyes were still human. They were bleary and sagged beneath the pebbles on his eyelids, but they were still the eyes of Charles Merriman. They were big and blue. 'Puppy eyes', his mother had once said, 'big, innocent, puppy-dog eyes'. Would she say the same if she could look in his eyes now? These were the guilty eyes of a murderer; the bloodshot eyes of an alcoholic; the distant eyes of a child.

Orc cringed. This was stupid. Why had he done this in the first place? The only other time he'd looked at himself in the mirror this long was when the rock had first started growing and spreading across his body. He and Howard had stood in the little bathroom of the house they took over, while his friend examined and poked and prodded at him, asking 'does this hurt?', 'can you feel that?'.

Howard had done a lot for Orc since the start of the FAYZ. Howard had done a lot for him since before that, he guessed. Since... Well, for as long as Orc had known the other boy.

He closed his eyes for a moment and hung his head, nostalgic.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw, well, he had his pants off, so...

He held out his hands towards it, hesitant. It had been a while since he had–

"Orc, man, you okay in there?" A sharp but worried rapping on the door cut off his thought. "You throwing up again?"

Orc exchanged a quick, worried glance with the reflection in the mirror. His patch of skin was flushed red.

"Yup," Orc replied to his friend. "I mean– nah. I'm good, Howard." He clumsily and hurriedly began to pull on his shorts again. Howard had sewn him those shorts.

He opened the bathroom door with his thumb and forefinger, careful, again, to not break anything. He squeezed out of the tiny tiled room, nearly bumping into the dark-skinned boy standing at the door.

"What were you–" Howard began, then thought better of it.

"I told you," Orc said, "I'm good. Don't ask, okay." Disguising embarrassment as anger.

He stumbled down the already dilapidated stairs to the living room. Howard watched him go, then shook his head and stepped into the bathroom himself. He immediately unbuckled his belt and yanked off his pants.


End file.
